


Weecest Shorts

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Incest, M/M, Quickies, Weecest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform, wee!cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various Weecest shorts that seemed unreasonable having their own separate posts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pavses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pavses/gifts), [takeitbabyboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeitbabyboy/gifts).



> Short written fer cxj02354 on Tumblr.

Sam had been watching his brother for far too long now.

He knew Dean had noticed him staring, had ignored Sam and closed his eyes after a while. And with the heat baring in on them - the broken AC of the motel room - Sam finally had enough.

Enough of his brother’s sweated skin glistening from the violent rays of sunlight soaking across the mattress like strips of fire lighting up where ever they’d filtered onto.

Enough of Dean’s limbs stretched out on the sheets and spread away from him so that he could breathe easier.

Enough of the tight black boxer-briefs clinging to every inch they covered, and that fucking bulge that Sam knew was his brother’s dick pressed swelteringly against the cotton - enough!

Sam put his pencil down and got up, taking three strides to the bed before climbing over Dean and seeing his brother’s eyes go wide as saucers before Sam rested his ass in Dean’s lap and leaned down, shoving his lips against the stunned, parted ones of his brother.

He felt Dean’s hands move to his hips, his brother’s body rising as Sam opened his own mouth and snaked his tongue out, swiping it over Dean’s and breathing heatedly into his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet little Weecest short fer Deanna (takeitbabyboy on Tumblr), fer her birthday.

These kinds of things only ever happen when John isn’t around. Which, thankfully, is more often than not. Because, when their father comes back, they’re just brothers. They’ll look longingly at one another when his back is turned, fighting the urge to touch one another, to hold and lose their selves.

When John is there, it’s like it use to be, with the tantrums and arguments, and ‘ _get your homework done_ ’ and ‘ _that’s my shirt_ ’. He even smiles at how absurd their arguing can be, and Dean’s grateful for his father’s ignorance - grateful that it’s impossible for John to see anything _more_ there. Because who really could, that was so close to them?

If Dean gets protective of his baby brother, it’s because he was told to do so by John, nothing more, there couldn’t **possibly** be anything _more_ to that. He’s just the soldier, following orders. And, while that’s true, there **is** more to it.

Dean would do anything, kill anyone, give up his life and anyone else’s in the world, to make sure Sam is safe. It’s his job, his duty, his right - _his purpose._ Thank heavens no one suspects that there’s more to it than that. Because he doesn’t want to lose this. At all costs, their secret must be kept safe. Whether he has to knock Sam on the head with his knuckles and pretend to be the annoying older brother, or not. He can play that role, to keep this between just the two of them. The world doesn’t need to know.

He rolls his little birthday boy over, adoring him, their naked bodies tangling within both of one another and the sheets around them. He kisses everything he can, Sam’s soft brown bangs, pushing them out of his brother’s face so he can get his lips on the short little baby hairs before his forehead.

He kisses that ever present ripple of worries between Sam’s brows, down along the bridge of his nose, to the smile, the corner, the sweet dip of his brother’s dimples. He could adore Sam for an eternity. He could get lost in his brother’s gangly limbs, smother the younger Winchester with his own body, become deaf to anything but the sound of Sam’s pants and moans, eager little whines.

Dean traces his fingers along the under-developed planes of his brother’s chest and waist, hooking his arm around, to turn Sam over. And though he does so, Sam still tries to reach back, to arch his body, to try and touch Dean as well.

He twists his fingers up his brother’s smaller, thinner ones, holding Sam’s arms to the mattress below as he drops down, pressing his wet, parted lips to the notches of Sam’s spine. He stops at the dimples above his brother’s ass, kissing each one, taking his hands back to cover the swell of the younger Winchester’s ass cheeks in his palms, spreading him open and tasting him.

“ **Dean** ,” He hears his brother shudder out as he ghosts a heated breath over Sam’s puckered entrance. Nothing else has ever sounded as sweet, as cavity-inducing, as the sound of his baby boy - desperate and pleading.

They’re still brothers - like when Dean pushes into him and tells him that ‘ _it’s okay, it’ll only hurt for a moment. Move with me, Sammy_ ,’ it’s the same as when he’s showing Sam how to aim at the targets, ‘ _squeeze, don’t pull. It’ll buck, an’ it might sting, just lift your arm up to take that_ ’.

It’s always the same, everything they do - tickling him, to make Sam laugh, whispering dirty little things into his ear to make him hard. It’s still his baby brother that he does these things to, that he shows just how to make Dean feel good, and is sure to return the favor, the love, the adoration, ten times over.

" _Dean_ ," Sam says again, knowing full well what it does to him, that it makes his cock throb, makes him bite his lip so as not to respond back.

But he does, _this time_. He sinks his length into Sam's heat, the tight walls hugging around him as he pulls his brother's hips up to receive, presses his chest to Sam's back and all but sighs out his name, "Sammy," against the soft wet curls.

"Oh _god_ , Dean," The younger Winchester reaches back and grabs his hand, pulling him around to touch the hard prick, fingers brushing the soaked head, "Touch me already, you jerk."

Dean smirks and responds at once, giving Sam just what he needs, just enough, spoiling him for a moment as the pumps and thrusts are timed together and ' _Sammy doesn't know what to do with his hands_ '.

"Shut up."

"That's not a way to talk to your older brother, _baby boy_."

Sam's body trembles at the nickname and turns to look at him, "You can be such an asshole some times, just fuck me already."

"Watch your mouth," Dean says, smacking his hip and gripping tight to the skin as he thrusts hard and Sam has to turn back and bury his face into the pillow as he groans.

"Sorry, Dean," The younger Winchester moans as his lithe little body arches, "I can't help it, I want **more**."

Dean has to chuckle, because it's so like his brother to demand more from him, some times more than he has, but he figures he can give Sam this, "Just lemme do this, Sammy. You take it, baby boy, an' I'll give you everythin' you ask for, _tonight_."

Sam knows better, knows that he always gets what he wants on his birthday. It's the only time that Dean allows them both to take their time, to make sure John is away for a few days, so Dean can spoil him rotten, tease him until he's screaming, trying to ignore the fact that his brother wants it done and over fast.

His little brother wants the release, and Dean'll always draw it out in times like this. But Sam knows that - if he plays his cards right, and is patient enough - he'll get everything he wants.


	3. Five Minutes in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That time ComWS wrote a Weecest Short fer that huge Acklesboner she’s been sporting fer months now… Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.
> 
> Ages: Dean - 18, Sam - 14

Sometimes Dean would swear to himself that his brother did these things on purpose. Before they’d become a ‘thing’, before they’d been serious to one another, and indulged in each other, he would’ve sworn that his brother knew; that Sam had somehow picked up on Dean’s thoughts about his little brother, and was just fucking torturing him or alluding to him what Sam had figured out.

But now, now he was pretty fucking sure that Sam was doing it on purpose. The smoldering looks from the younger boy, the once-overs he got **more** than once. Sam, licking his lips or drying his sweaty palms on his jeans. _And that’s it_ –he’s had enough.

He waits outside his brother’s fourth class and grabs Sam’s sleeve as the boy looks up at him in surprise.

“Dean?” He starts to ask but Dean doesn’t wait and pulls him along, avoiding the unusual stares he’s getting and he walks until the halls are clear, until he steps to the infamous ‘five minutes in heaven’ closet seniors normally keep to themselves. Nikki Fisher’s offered to blow him twice in here, been turned down both times, and without an excuse - just ‘I’m not really interested’. And when Dean says that to girls, he always means ‘I’d rather do it with Sam’.

Sam, who’s still bewildered and wide-eyed as Dean brings him into the small room and flicks the light bulb on as he locks the door, “Dean, what’s going on?”

“You been lookin’ at me all day, an’ **you’re** confused about what’s gonna happen?”

He feels his little brother shiver against him, ‘How did you find this room?” He asks, giving Dean a speculative, almost hurt look.

Dean took his brother’s sweet cheeks in his palms, “No way that’d upset you, baby boy,” He was reassuring Sam at once. He knows his brother is the jealous kind, easily, considering that’s how he found out about Sammy’s feelings in the first place - a heated relationship with one Miranda Wilcox, which led to all kinds of arguments between them.

Sam was looking more relaxed and Dean pressed small, short kisses to his brother’s dry lips, licking at them and Sam’s gasps turned into little grunts and moans, hands reaching out almost blindly in the shadowy light from the single, dim bulb above them. His fingers were slipping around Dean’s waist, under his shirt and touching tentatively up his spine.

“Wanted to fuck you all day, Sammy, all day you kept givin’ my them looks an’ I wanted to get my hands on you, couldn’t wait another goddamn minute, I swear,” He was breathing out against his brother’s swollen lips, combing Sam’s soft hair from his face.

“Give me your jacket, I'm cold,” Sam whispers against Dean’s mouth and shivers again.

The older Winchester doesn’t hesitate, slipping the leather from his arms and handing it over to Sam, helping the smaller boy into it and chuckling when his brother’s hands don’t even come out of the sleeves until he bends the arms.

“That better, little brother?” Dean asks, voice low and heated against Sam’s earlobe before he drops to his knees and slides the front of the smaller boy’s shirt up. Sam starts to gasp and complain but he stops once Dean’s warm palms press to his soft belly and then the older Winchester is running his mouth over the sweet skin, tasting him and sucking the flesh in between his lips.

Sam is all kinds of speechless then, hands moving to Dean’s shoulders and holding him tight as the older Winchester swells blood to the surface of Sam’s skin.

His little brother is loud, moaning and gasping and Dean’s unsure of what to do for a moment, standing and motioning for his brother to kneel.

Though Sam’s flustered and red-faced, wide-eyed innocence showing through for just a second, he smirks and does as his brother requests.

Dean licks his lips, mouth watering as Sam unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out of his underwear. The younger boy takes him up, little mouth stretching thin lips around his shaft and bobbing along it.

“Fuck, baby boy,” Dean hisses out, fisting up his brother’s hair and staring down at the gorgeous sight before him.

Sam is unusually cocky and aloof with his bobs, confident and unsuspecting as he stares up into Dean’s eyes, smirking slightly and sucking so hard that his dimples risk caving in completely.

He can feel Sammy’s tongue lolling around his head, teasing the slit and Dean moves them back, surprising the smaller boy but being careful enough that he doesn’t hurt Sam. He presses his brother’s back to the door, hand on Sam’s neck and jaw, the other holding his hair as Dean thrusts into the younger Winchester’s mouth. He can feel Sam gagging around him, eyes watering as he stares up at Dean and he watches the tears slip down Sam’s cheeks.

Dean pulls back, bringing Sam up from his knees as the smaller boy breathes and chokes, but smiles as Dean kisses him and presses their bodies together. The older Winchester laps at Sam’s dimples, tracing them with his tongue before turning the gangly teenager around and unbuttoning, unzipping his pants and sliding them down his knobbly knees.

He drops down and spreads his brother wide, licking and lapping the soft pink entrance before darting his tongue inside. The walls are already slickened and lax, soaking with some kind of preparation beforehand.  
Dean pulls back, glancing up at his whimpering brother with a raised brow, “Did you already..?”

“After lunch,” Sam pants out, looking back at him, “I’ve been doing it all day, getting ready for when we got home so you could just–”

“Slip right in?” Dean stands and smirks as he grabs Sam’s hips, leaning in against his ear and biting the lobe, “Wanted me so bad that you couldn’t keep your hands off yourself, little brother? Had to sneak into a bathroom stall an’ thrust ‘em in, moaning my name when you knew the coast was clear?”

“Yes,” Sam breathes as he arches his ass back, but Dean holds him tighter and keeps him in place, “I want you, Dean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you–”

“Whaddya say?”

Sam whimpers and Dean feels his little boy tremble, “ _Please_.”

The older Winchester pulls back and positions himself, still wet from fucking his brother’s mouth. He presses the tip of his cock in, watching his brother squirm and feeling the hips trying to move back, but Dean holds them firmly in place.

He chuckles as Sam curses and patiently, agonizingly, unreasonably slowly, slides himself in to the welcoming heat.

“I can’t believe you been preppin’ yourself for me, baby boy,” He ghosts a heavy, heated breath over the back of his brother’s neck before starting a slow, steady rhythm between them.

His jacket is bunched between them, Sam’s hands pressing to the door on either side of him, skinny little hips moving back as Dean guides him with one hand, the other reaching up to comb through the back of his brother’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

They start slow together, careful and timed as their bodies slap together. But Sam’s sounds start escalating and Dean doesn’t want to chance someone walking by and hearing him. He moves his hand from his brother’s neck, around to cover Sam’s mouth at first, but then ends up pressing his fingers between the younger Winchester’s lips, giving him something else to do as they fuck.

Sam sucks his digits enthusiastically, tongue flicking over the pads of them or under his nails and Dean groans his approval against the back of the boy’s neck.

“Son of a bitch, Sammy,” He says, and then it’s his brother’s needy little body pushing back, and his boots gripping the ground and slipping slightly, pants dropping as his hips are slamming so hard into Sam that he can see stars behind his eyes.

The bell for fifth period rings just as Dean stammers and gasps, wet lips pressing to Sam’s ear as he comes.

The hand on his brother’s hip is gripping so tight it might leave finger-shaped bruises, the ones in the younger Winchester's mouth are thrusting in, fucking against his tongue and between his lips as Sam arches his body back.

Dean doesn’t wait for the afterglow, pulling out and kneeling, licking the sensitive boy’s ass hole clean.

Sam is whimpering as Dean turns him around, kissing his stomach once more and taking the hard cock between his lips and suckling the head until Sam releases and all but collapses against him, spent and almost sobbing as his little body trembles.

“Dean,” Sam breathes and kisses him, pressing his forehead to Dean’s shoulder as the older Winchester pulls their pants back up.

“Think you can last the rest of the day?” Dean asks softly, voice low as he smooths his palm over Sam’s tummy once more, “Once we get back to the motel, we can do this again, an’ take our time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this here on AO3, and I'd never published it, so uh... here you go.


End file.
